


Hannibal: You Want It, You Got It

by IBegToDreamAndDiffer



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild Language, Murder, Sexual References, and cannibalism, and torture, dark!Will, references to murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 18:11:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1788370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBegToDreamAndDiffer/pseuds/IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal is captured, tried, and imprisoned. But his and Will's story doesn't end there, much to Hannibal's surprise. And delight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hannibal: You Want It, You Got It

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Hannibal belongs to NBC. The original characters are the property of Thomas Harris. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

It was raining when they came for him. Rather cliché, Hannibal thought, like a badly written police drama, or a dramatic scene in a book. Hannibal could admit, if only to himself- and later, perhaps, to Jack Crawford when he no doubt came to talk- that the FBI had executed it brilliantly. Hannibal had felt the shift in the BAU team, but hadn't attributed it to them circling in, pulling the net that bit closer every day, every week, until Hannibal was well and truly trapped.

Jack and his team played Will, thus they played Hannibal. They fed Will lies, knowing that his relationship with his psychiatrist was more than that of doctor and patient. Hannibal fed on their lies like a succulent piece of liver, lightly charred and dashed with herbs and spices. Hannibal disliked the outcome, but couldn't deny that the play had been a masterpiece.

Will wasn't there, he'd been called into Jack's office an hour earlier. Hannibal had thought nothing of it, going back to preparing the dinner he'd been working on for weeks. The preparation, cooking, and plating would take very little time, but the hunt had been far longer; a school teacher, rude to her students and their parents, had mocked Hannibal numerous times when they passed each other in the same coffee house every other day.

Hannibal had silenced her with a hand wrapped around her neck, had then strung her up in the woods just off of the highway, her delicate features peeled back, the skin of her body sliced and pulled to work delicate etchings into her legs, her abdomen, even her back. He'd used the frills she was so fond of to tie her up, to package her for Jack and his team, unaware that in a few hours Jack would know _exactly_ who had left it for him.

Hannibal had always been gifted with a rather sharp sense of smell, hearing and sight, even before his senses had become necessary for his hobby. So he heard them approaching and was peeking through his living room window when six separate SUVs rolled up his driveway, each carrying armed men whom soon swarmed across the gravel and grass, automatic weapons at the ready, faces and bodies masked by protective gear.

Hannibal allowed a twinge of annoyance to shoot through him before he was moving. He had planned for this, of course. He planned for everything, and hadn't been under the illusion that his more illegal works would remain unknown for all eternity. He grabbed a large kitchen knife as he went, but left everything else behind. He was out the back door before the SWAT team could surround it, off across the wet grass on his powerfully built legs.

Someone spotted him, and there was a shout followed by more, but Hannibal kept moving. He managed to duck into the trees off to side of his backyard, leaping at the fence that cut off his property from his neighbour's. He dropped to his feet and kept moving, circling the pool, the children's toys, coming up alongside the house.

A woman was sweeping the side path and she shouted when she saw Hannibal. He slit her throat before she could move, and didn't have the time to watch her crumple and bleed out. A pity. She'd always been rather nosy. He would have lightly roasted her thigh with a salad of nuts and cheese on the side.

Jack Crawford was a smart man, so despite Hannibal's short head start, there were more police officers waiting for him. The street had been blocked off, men and women swarming all over the place as those home stepped onto their porches to see what was happening.

Hannibal was hit from the side as he left his neighbour's backyard and fell into the side-fence, the officer following, his automatic weapon up. Hannibal faked being wounded, and smelt the man lower his guard as he approached.

Hannibal swung his left fist, hitting the man in his unprotected throat. He gurgled as he dropped to his knees, and Hannibal swung the knife still dripping his neighbour's blood. It sunk through the man's protective gear and skin, hitting bone and then tearing through muscle when Hannibal yanked it to the side. Blood sprayed across the killer, who revelled in the liquid dripping down his face and chin. He couldn't help but watch this man, eyes alight as he choked for air, as the life slowly drain from him.

'FREEZE!'

Hannibal looked up. He knew he must appear wild; face and pristine dress shirt covered in blood, kneeling over a man already dead, a knife in one hand and free fingers curled into a fist. His eyes narrowed as three- four- _six_ men decked out in protective black material caged him in, their faces masked and weapons pointed at Hannibal's body.

There was no escape, Hannibal realised. He had been too slow, hadn't been prepared to be caught at home by such a well-armed force. He had always, _always_ thought that he would catch wind of the FBI's plans before they came for him. But he had been played expertly, his relationship with Will Graham used to keep him sated and in place. Like a house-trained dog, eagerly seeing the best in all those around.

Oh, how the Chesapeake Ripper had fallen.

'PUT YOUR WEAPON DOWN AND LINK YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!' another man yelled.

Hannibal had no wish to go to prison. But he didn't want to die, either. A prison escape was possible, coming back from the dead not so much. So he slowly raised his hands before placing the knife aside, and then linked his fingers behind his head.

The team paused a second, watching, before they moved. Hannibal was forced to the ground, his arms then wrenched behind his back and cold handcuffs closed too tightly around his wrists. He snarled as he was dragged painfully to his feet, and was satisfied with the flinches of all those around him. They kept their weapons up as he was marched across the lawn and down the street, towards the closest parked van that could easily detain him.

The world was loud and busy around Hannibal, and the rain slowed to a soft patter, but Hannibal paid no attention when Jack Crawford and his team came into view. Standing between Jack and Katz was Will. His blue eyes were wide, hair stuck to his forehead in messy, sweaty clumps. His hands were curled into tight, white fists at his sides, and he was shaking horribly.

Hannibal wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch; sooth the profiler with softly spoken words that would keep Will together as much as they would break him. He had been _so close_ , watching as Will slowly embraced the darkness that Hannibal had scented on him, seen in his eyes, when they first met in Jack's office.

It was all over, now, and Hannibal didn't doubt that Will despised him. He wasn't quite ready to sympathise with a cannibalistic serial killer, even one that he'd recently almost told that he loved. He'd stuttered at the last minute, mumbled something about jeans, but Hannibal knew what Will had been about to say.

So many beautiful nights they could have had together! Hunting, butchering, partaking in the delicacies of human flesh, curled up together with books, fucking in Hannibal's large bed or against Hannibal's marble counters. All gone because Jack Crawford had been smarter than Hannibal had given him credit for. There was always a chance wolf amongst the sheep of humanity, and Hannibal had dismissed this one.

Hannibal was finally stopped with strong hands on his arms, more men and women surrounding him, as though he'd lash out and kill each and every one. He would, but they had taken his knife, and there were only so many people Hannibal could fight at any given time. The handcuffs were also annoying.

'Dr Lecter,' Crawford growled. His eyes were lit up with satisfaction, having finally caught the infamous Chesapeake Ripper. There was anger there, though; betrayal as well as fear and annoyance.

Hannibal smirked. He had fooled the man for so long- had fooled everybody he'd ever come into contact with. He'd hunted and butchered and eaten pounds of flesh, all while working with the very people tasked with capturing him. It had been a beautiful dance, but all games must come to an end.

'Jack,' Hannibal replied. He purposely used the man's first name, reminding him of the cases worked together, the meals spent together; how Hannibal had _fed the man_ human flesh. Hannibal licked his lips before continuing, and tasted the metallic tang of blood, the freshness of rain, on his tongue. Katz, Price and Zeller all looked equal parts disgusted and terrified, while Crawford watched in restrained anger. Will was staring at Hannibal's damp, bloody shirt, unable to meet his eyes. 'Really, Jack, I must commend you for such a well thought-out and timely plan. I barely had any time to run.'

'We played to your ego,' Jack growled.

Hannibal's eyes flicked to Will. 'And on my relationships?'

Will flinched, but it was Jack who said, 'Will had no idea. We kept it from him.'

'Because you were frightened, perhaps, that he would warn me?' Hannibal asked. His lips curved into a small, satisfied smile when Jack's team glanced worryingly at Will. 'I spent an awfully long time getting into Will Graham's head.'

'He spent longer in yours,' Jack shot back. 'And he helped us when the time came.'

Hannibal remembered Will's hasty departure, and the text that he'd received almost an hour after Will had left; _hope ur still home, gonna b back soon_

Oh, so _clever_. Either Will or Jack had sent him that text from Will's phone, making sure that Hannibal remained home. Hannibal had known that Jack had suspicions about his and Will's relationship, but he'd either figured it out a short time ago, or Will had told him.

It didn't matter, Hannibal decided. Either way he had been caught, and would soon be sent away for life.

'Do you think I'll be sent to prison?' Hannibal questioned, making Jack's eyes darken further in fury. 'Or will the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane be getting a new inmate?'

'There's nothing sane about you, Lecter,' Jack spat. 'Get him out of my sight!'

'Until the interrogation, Jack,' Hannibal replied. His eyes lingered on Will until he was turned and forcefully shoved towards an unmarked van. He shot everybody who met his eyes a vicious grin, just to see them turn pale and quake in their shoes. He wouldn't have much else to do but play with those around him, when he was in prison.

Well, not until he escaped.

  
  


{oOo}

  
  


Unsurprisingly, a media frenzy followed immediately after Hannibal's capture and detainment. It was the most twisted, horrific story anybody had seen or read about. Doctor Hannibal Lecter, famous as a world-renowned surgeon and psychiatrist, consultant to the FBI, and socialite everybody wanted to be seen with, was both the Chesapeake Ripper and Copycat Killer. The well-mannered, odd man whom the select few had dined with was a psychopath who tortured, butchered, and ate his victims.

The list of victims was staggering, and there were many, many more missing that Hannibal refused to admit to immediately. He enjoyed toying with the men and women sent to interrogate him, though he mostly dealt with Jack and Jack's team; never Will. Hannibal hadn't seen, nor heard, from the man since he'd been led away in cuffs.

Journalists were at each other's throats for the opportunity to interview “Hannibal the Cannibal”, and Hannibal choked the first guard who'd uttered the moniker in Hannibal's presence. Unfortunately three more had managed to drag Hannibal clear, but Hannibal hadn't seen the young man since. He hoped he had caused deep emotional scars, and would cause many more physical ones if they ever came face to face again.

There was only one journalist that Hannibal agreed to meet with, and he stood immediately when she entered the small room, glancing at Hannibal through the bars of his holding cell.

'Ms Lounds,' he drawled.

'Dr Lecter,' she replied. She was excited, Hannibal could both see and smell it. He could also sense the underlying terror; she'd sat next to this man, had conversed with him, while all the while he'd most likely been thinking of the most delicious way to sample her meat. 'I'm honoured that you agreed to meet with me.'

'Don't be,' Hannibal said, and she paused from where she'd been digging out her recording device. 'There is only one reason I agreed,' he added.

Hannibal respected the way Lounds quickly, though shakily, pulled herself together. Always salivating for another story, another scoop, she stepped a bit closer to the bars, but far enough away that Hannibal couldn't reach out and strangle her.

'And why's that?' she asked.

Hannibal breathed in deeply, drinking in the mixture of emotions from both Lounds and the guard standing just beside the door. 'Ms Lounds,' he sighed, his accented voice soft, 'you are a very, very rude woman, and I regret not slitting your throat when you sat in my office.'

Lounds paled a bit, but didn't say a word.

'Your blood would have looked gorgeous, spilled across the light blue fabric of my lounge,' Hannibal continued. He recalled the memory, of Lounds sitting nervously beside him. She had feared him even then, sensing the monster he truly was. 'I would have feasted on your liver, perhaps your bicep.'

Lounds took a shaky breath, licked her lips. 'Not my heart?' she asked with a steady voice.

Hannibal tilted his head and smirked. It was a real one, not the fake he used when pretending to feel emotions that he was incapable of experiencing. The smirk was a dark, raw hunger, one that promised violence and blood, death and despair. Lounds took a step back.

'Ms Lounds,' he said, 'your heart is rotten. I would not sully my body with it.'

She flinched again. Hannibal let it wash over his skin, warm like spilled blood.

'If we can get back on topic, Dr Lecter,' she tried to sound in control, unaffected, but Hannibal had a life time's worth of experience at manipulating and reading people under his belt. He knew just what buttons to press to get the response he desired.

'No, my dear,' Hannibal replied, 'you will not be getting an exclusive interview with “Hannibal the Cannibal”.' Lounds froze at the nickname, and Hannibal took a step closer to the bars. He let his eyes narrow, his shoulders and arms tense, looming over her despite the barrier of metal, despite the distance between them. 'I do know that it was you who coined that term, Ms Lounds,' he said, 'and when I am free once more, you will be the first person I come for.' He let his cold, dark eyes flick over her person. 'I think I will start with your thighs. They look particularly delectable.'

Lounds' eyes widened.

'Leave, now, and I may go easy on you, one day,' Hannibal said. Unlikely, but he was done with her. Her very presence made the air rank, and without easy access to her throat, Hannibal could not remove the stink. He turned his back on her and went to sit on the sparse bunk he'd been getting to know well for the past few weeks.

Despite the exclusive she would be giving up, Lounds was no fool; she hastened to escape Hannibal's presence, and soon the killer was left alone once more, apart from the guard stationed fearfully by the door. Hannibal had already sent four running, their previous meals reappearing quickly as their faces paled, as Hannibal told them what he would do to them given the opportunity.

Hannibal smirked once more as he leaned back, and closed his eyes. In his mind he saw Will, saw himself press a knife to Will's stomach and dig gently, just enough for red drips to form, red that Hannibal could lick away as he fucked into Will's tight body.

Hannibal sighed. Oh, the experiences he and Will would never share. Truly a loss.

  
  


{oOo}

  
  


Hannibal's trial was long and dull. Witnesses came forth from the woodworks; past and current patients, colleagues and strangers from the street, all people whom had worked with, or known, Dr Hannibal Lecter. All people whom Hannibal had fooled easily, now stating that they had always known that, “something was always off about that strange, eclectic man, but I never knew just how twisted he was”.

Hannibal was in his best suits every day, but chained by the wrists and ankles to the table before him, or to the witness stand when he was called. He delighted in detailing his crimes to the room at large, watching every face turn pale, a hand pressed over a mouth here, a ducked head there, the disgust and horror in everybody's eyes as he described cutting into people and eating their innards like they were animals. And they were, he made sure to say; Hannibal was Hannibal, and the people surrounding him were nothing but walking mounds of meat.

His death was ordered by more than one media outlet and hate group, but nobody could deny that Hannibal Lecter was completely psychotic. The judge had no choice but to detain him to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He received forty-two consecutive life sentences, one for each of his known victims, and Hannibal heard it all with a pleasant smile and dead eyes.

Will had not come to the trial, and if he had Hannibal hadn't glanced him through the swarming crowds. He doubted that Will _had_ come, due to the fact that Freddie Lounds had somehow discovered that Will Graham had been in a sexual relationship with Hannibal before and during his capture, and had released it to the general public. Will would be hounded, once they discovered where he lived.

Hope was a foreign emotion to Hannibal, a man who usually only felt hunger, anger, distaste, annoyance and lust. But for once, briefly, in his life, Hannibal hoped that Will would escape this unscathed. Not undamaged, because he doubted that the man could move on so easily from having relations with a serial killer. But Will was strong, and he would now get the help he needed. He'd be okay, eventually, if he managed to stay out of the media's way.

There was an uproar after Hannibal's sentencing, and he grinned at the cameras pointed his way when he was led from the court later that day, now wearing white prison garb. Questions were thrown at him, but Hannibal only stopped when he heard, “ _How do you feel about Will Graham?_ ”

He turned, but there were too many reporters, too many cameras, to accurately pinpoint where the question had come from. He answered all the same, ignoring the shoves and growls of the armed guards surrounding him.

'I loved and still love Will Graham,' he said, and silence fell immediately, quick and tense. 'I would also have loved to eat his lungs.'

The crowd exploded, and Hannibal bowed slightly before allowing the guards to continue him on his way. The screams were only cut off when the doors slammed shut and Hannibal was carted away.

He wondered if Will would hear what he'd said.

  
  


{oOo}

  
  


The Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane was, in one word, a chore. His cell was small, white, the only splash of colour the pencils Hannibal was allowed to have after agreeing to tell Chilton about a murder of his that the FBI couldn't confirm. Hannibal had been disgusted when his former colleague had agreed, as though giving sharp writing instruments to a _serial killer_ would be a good idea. There were cameras constantly monitoring them, but it would be easy for Hannibal to slip a pencil up his sleeve, or into the waistband of his bland trousers, and stab it into an orderly's neck when they came to collect him. He hadn't, yet, but only because he wanted the joy of drawing for just a bit longer.

Dr Frederick Chilton was a mediocre therapist at best, one who thought he could outwit not only Dr Hannibal Lecter, but the Chesapeake Ripper. The only purpose his “sessions” served were to break up the monotony of staring at the three bare walls of his cell and listening to his fellow inmates day after day.

During the first night they had spoken to him. Dr Abel Gideon, a man named I.J. “Multiple” Miggs, and another named Terrence Fisher. They had used such crude words, Miggs especially, and Hannibal had leaned against the glass that cut off his cell from the room beyond. He'd spoken softly, not having to raise his voice, and all it had taken was forty-two minutes. The next morning Miggs had been found dead, having swallowed his tongue, and the others refused to say a word.

Dr Chilton had forced Hannibal to watch religious programmes on a loop for three days in punishment until Gideon lashed out and stabbed a guard on his way to therapy. The portable television had been wheeled away after that incident.

Gideon, Hannibal supposed after three months in captivity, was bearable. Despite his often vulgar language, he'd once had a brilliant mind, and his willingness to discuss acts of savagery appealed to the large animal part of Hannibal's psyche. He had no taste for human flesh, though, and often spat into his toilet when Hannibal mentioned the various ways he had cooked people.

Fisher was quiet most of the time, but struggled whenever removed from his cell. His and Hannibal's were spaced too far apart for Hannibal to see, but he listened and reconstructed Fisher's struggles with his eyes closed. It was enough to take Fisher off of Hannibal's raider, for now ensuring that the man wouldn't meet an unfortunate hand at either Hannibal's hands or his own.

Jack was Hannibal's only visitor, and Alana Bloom on one memorable occasion. Hannibal had brought up their brief coupling when he had been her mentor years ago, and she'd turned such a shade of white, eyes wide with horror, that Hannibal had actually chuckled. He hadn't done so in many years, at least not truly, and it was enough to have Alana dashing from the room, Hannibal's laughter chasing her for far longer than physically possible.

Hannibal had smiled for the rest of the day, and when Chilton asked Hannibal recounted the young man he had butchered after having intercourse with Alana, and how thrilling the high of the kill had been. Sex paled in comparison to it.

Then, Chilton crossed a line and asked if it had been the same with Will.

Hannibal was restrained, of course, as he always was when out of his cell. But he'd been institutionalised for five months, and hadn't stepped a toe out of line since that first night. Eventually he'd been allowed to walk on his own, rather than strapped down and wheeled, and soon the straightjacket had been removed in favour of a flimsy pair of handcuffs, his ankles free. Chilton was running an institute that had cracked foundations and was falling apart at the seams.

It allowed Hannibal to leap from his seat and wrap his arms around Chilton, using the chain of his handcuffs to strangle the man where he stood. He flailed and screamed for help, tugging at the chain, at Hannibal's hair, hissing and spluttering as he choked.

Hannibal pressed his lips to Chilton's ear and growled, 'If you _ever_ mention Will Graham again, I will rip your heart from your chest and eat it raw while you're alive, watching. And I will _enjoy_ every last bite.'

The guards stormed in soon after that, and a needle was stabbed into Hannibal's neck. He snarled and clawed at them, almost ripping an ear off when he got his teeth around it. He left deep scratches on the four men who held him down, and when he later awoke in his cell, writing tools, paper, and books removed, Hannibal licked the caught bits of flesh and blood from beneath his fingernails, grinning at the camera in the corner the entire time.

  
  


{oOo}

  
  


It was late when the main doors opened to the cell block, the hallway lights flickering into life to cast dull light on the room. Gideon, Fisher, and the two new men- Hannibal hadn't bothered learning their names, they were dull- slept through it, but Hannibal sat up. Footsteps drew closer and he wondered if Jack had decided to visit him, coming to taunt Hannibal over his capture, or demand more information on his still unknown victims.

It shocked Hannibal to the core when his dark eyes met the bright grey-blue of Will Graham's. The man was still unshaven, hair an artful mess beneath a dark grey cap. He was wearing the uniform the guards stationed at every exit wore, and there was blood on his hands.

'Not going to say hi?' Will asked with a dark smirk.

Hannibal shivered slightly but kept it well contained. He licked his lips as he stood, slowly approaching the glass as though Will were a wild animal. And he just might be, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. Could it be? Had Hannibal's incarceration, his lengthy and horrific trial, been enough to push Will Graham over the edge?

'I'm surprised to see you, Will,' Hannibal admitted. 'But pleased.'

'I'll bet,' Will laughed. He gestured at his uniform. 'You like?'

'Where did you get that, Will?' Hannibal asked, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice or face.

'The guard was more than willing to hand it over after I strangled him,' Will said. He clearly enjoyed the fresh wave of shock that slammed into Hannibal. 'I admit that cutting his heart out might have been overkill, but I thought you might like a souvenir of your time here.'

'You... _Will_ ,' Hannibal breathed. The younger man continued to smirk infuriatingly. 'I did not expect this.'

'But you wanted it,' Will said. When Hannibal raised an eyebrow, the profiler scoffed. 'Don't play coy now, Dr Lecter. This was what you wanted from the beginning. It just came about in a way that neither of us anticipated.'

'I see,' Hannibal mused. 'How long had you known?'

'Months; before our relationship changed,' Will admitted. 'But I was still sick. If you'd told me about the encephalitis I would have figured it out sooner; both your manipulation _and_ your hobby.'

'I see,' Hannibal repeated.

'I'm pissed off that I didn't figure it out before  _Jack_ .' Will twisted the FBI agent's name, disgust in his face and voice. 'It was humiliating, being beaten by Jack and his team. I could have kept you free if I'd known, we could have killed  _together_ .'

If Hannibal believed in a god, he would believe that this, right here, was a miracle. He had always wanted Will as a partner- an equal- not a toy to be used up and tossed aside. But he had thought he needed time to push Will, to break him before rebuilding him into a creature that Hannibal would delight in calling partner. It seemed that Hannibal had been wrong; all Will had needed was the truth.

'Forgive me, Will,' he said with honest sincerity, and knew that Will could read it in his tone. 'I miscalculated.'

'Yeah, you did,' Will agreed. He was holding eye contact, Hannibal noted, and what the former psychiatrist saw delighted him, made his cock swell in his thin grey briefs. Will wasn't yet complete- he hadn't killed with Hannibal, or eaten with him knowing exactly what the meat was, hadn't been introduced to Hannibal's methods. But soon, so very soon, he would be, and Hannibal could finally feel... complete. 'So,' Will clapped his hands together, 'I tossed a dead and cut-up guard into a utility closet, and I'm sure that someone will notice him eventually. Want to get out of here?'

Hannibal nodded and watched in amusement as Will unlocked the door with his stolen keycard, letting Hannibal step free without cuffs or a straitjacket keeping him contained. As soon as he was before Will he wrapped a large palm around the smaller man's throat, squeezing tightly. Will gasped, and then groaned when Hannibal slammed their mouths together, plundering from between those sweet lips even as he choked the younger man.

Will gave back as good as he got; he grabbed Hannibal's crotch with one hand and squeezed far too tightly, the other weaving into his ashen hair to tug sharply, sending pain from Hannibal's head down to his swollen, crushed cock.

When they broke apart both their grips loosened, and Will panted into Hannibal's mouth as the older man breathed, 'You are beautiful, William.'

'The real you is as well,' Will replied.

Hannibal squeezed Will's throat one last time before releasing him, and as soon as Will was free he reached into his pocket. He drew a pen and clicked the top down, revealing the small, shiny nib.

'You can make do with this in place of a knife, yes?' Will asked. 'I know from Jack that visitors searched when they enter this cell block.'

Hannibal smiled and took the pen, long fingers easily wrapping around it as though it were a blade. 'And yourself?'

'I've been practising,' Will admitted, pulling out another pen, this one plastic. Hannibal watched as Will snapped it, now holding two jagged plastic pieces in his hands.

'You get decidedly more delicious with each passing second,' Hannibal said.

Will just smirked in response.

It was like a wonderful dream, Hannibal mused as he followed Will down the room and towards the doors. He kept behind Will, head down and arms before him, shuffling in case the guards looked back and saw him. Hannibal had been on his best behaviour the past few weeks, and the security around him had lessened once more. Why Chilton thought it would be safe to leave  _one_ guard to escort Hannibal Lecter around was anybody's guess, and Hannibal didn't doubt that Chilton would find himself unemployed and disgraced as soon as Hannibal's escape was discovered.

Hannibal knew that only one guard was on night-shift in the security booth upstairs, and he was an avid gambler, horse races often pulling his attention away from the monitors, and insane criminals, he should be watching. Despite that, he and Will moved quickly when the door opened with a loud buzz, revealing two more guards who always stood before the main door.

Will took the one on the right, Hannibal the one on the left. As much as he would like to draw out the first kill he had performed in months, Hannibal was much more interested in watching Will. So he jabbed his pen into the guard's throat, arterial blood spraying over him, and then leaking down the man's chest and onto the floor as Hannibal let him drop.

Will had much more fun. He'd stabbed the throat in the same manner Hannibal had, but used the other half of his pen to gouge the man's eyes out much like Gideon had done months prior. Hannibal felt his heart flutter in delight, and his mouth watered when Will smiled darkly up at him, blood dropping down his nose, droplets splashed across his glasses.

'I wish we had time,' Will breathed as he stood, thick red liquid dripping from his hands. 'When we're safe, I'm gonna lick the blood from your lips,' he added.

Hannibal sighed and closed his eyes.

'Not into bloodplay?' Will asked, and when Hannibal looked at him once more, there was a cheeky grin on his face. 'All the biting you did in the bedroom must have just been hunger, hmm?'

Hannibal growled and tugged Will forward by the shirt. The profiler went into Hannibal's arms immediately, and groaned when Hannibal's thick tongue licked from his cheek to his chin, blood and sweat bursting across the organ like a delicious salad dressing. If Hannibal could bottle it, he would dress his salads in nothing else.

'Han-Hannibal,' Will moaned against his mouth, 'we have to go.'

'Mm,' Hannibal agreed, but he wasn't happy about it. He licked Will one last time before pulling back. 'I'm surprised that you aren't angrier at me over my manipulations.' There was no point in lying, and Hannibal didn't want to lie to Will, not any more.

'I'm gonna fuck you when we find a hotel,' Will said, his tone dark but _so_ delicious. 'And you're gonna cook every organ we take just for me. You're gonna grovel for my forgiveness.'

'Hannibal Lecter does not grovel,' Hannibal replied.

Will grabbed his crotch again, _squeezed_ , and Hannibal was dismayed when his traitorous sex jumped eagerly.

Will smirked slowly, like he had all the time in the world. 'You will,' he promised and let go.

Hannibal watched his retreating back, a slow smile spreading across his face as he followed. Soon the alarms would go off, but Hannibal hoped to be far, far away when they did, enjoying the darkness that Will had managed to unlock without him. If that meant submitting to Will, Hannibal supposed he could bear it. After all, his body seemed to enjoy being in Will's service. And Hannibal had never denied the wants of his body.

'Ready?' Will asked when Hannibal caught up to him. His eyes were wide and eager, tongue darting out to lick the taste of blood and Hannibal from his perfect, pink lips. He was practically vibrating with energy, hands wanting to rip and tear into flesh, kill those less worthy and hold Hannibal down as he did as he pleased.

The new Will had merged so beautifully with the old Will that Hannibal knew it would take him years- a lifetime- to work out how Will ticked.

'Indeed,' Hannibal finally replied, returning Will's smile.

Hannibal Lecter was always up for a challenge.

  
  


{Fin}

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author's Note:** *twiddles thumbs* Whelp, I went and got sucked into the Hannibal fandom. Yup. I've only seen the first three episodes and episode six, because that's all I could download before my internet crapped out on me, and I have no money to buy the DVDs yet. I've read lots of fanfic, though, but probably not enough to do the characters- or Hannigram- any justice. But I really wanted to write something where Hannibal was caught and Will busted him out. Couldn't help it.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> {IBegToDreamAndDiffer}


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